Every year I buy a nice boxed set of expensive cosmetics as Christmas gift to myself from Hubby. If you really need to know why I buy myself a Christmas gift, check my post ADHD destroyed my birthday. Otherwise rest assured that I usually buy myself a nice set of Lancôme cosmetics that include fancy moisturizing creams and lipbalms. Those teeny tiny tubes last me all year.
How on earth do I manage that? you ask.
As the number of people and animals in my household has increased, the amount of time I have in the washroom has decreased exponentially. I really think it’s decreased to the power of 3, and maybe some of the mathy folks who read this blog could write the equation and draw a nice graph; but it might help if you imagine my bathroom time taking a steep nosedive into the dirt.
So I have no time in the bathroom.
This is not that I do not have a bathroom – I actually have a two piece ensuite that I call ‘My Bathroom.’ I clean it once a week. That’s also where the cat litter is, so I clean that too. My make-up stays in that bathroom. That’s why it’s called ‘My Bathroom’ – because my stuff is in there. All those nice gift boxes of cosmetics, fancy make-up brushes, creams, cleansers and hair products are in there.
The kids are NOT allowed in there.
I am not in there either.
Sometimes five year old Mr. Sensitive goes in there and uses my fancy make-up to turn himself into a pirate or zombie. Sometimes he just paints the walls with Elizabeth Arden lipstick. Either way, he uses my make-up more than I do.
I have always enjoyed ‘me time’ in the washroom. This was my time to primp, think and relax in the tub. That all changed with the birth of Mr. Sensitive. He was an irritable, colicky baby who would scream for 11 hours a day. He ended up on medication for GERD (acid reflux) at 6 months. He screamed until about 9 months. If I wanted a shower in those early days I either showered while holding him on my shoulder (yes, I could wash my hair that way) or Hubby held him over the shower curtain so he could see me. If I needed to pee, I accomplished that while holding the baby over my shoulder and eventually learned to fasten my jeans single-handedly. Me time was gone, baby.
Add two other kids and my morning routine was streamlined to non-existent. Yes, I have run out the door after just wiping my face with a baby wipe. (No fancy facial cleansers here.) Yes, I have worn sunglasses to cover the bags under my eyes. (No fancy concealers or artful eyeshadows.) Yes, I am lucky to wash my hair twice a week. (Professional hair products have been replaced by waterless shampoo and a retro bedhead look.)
If I’m lucky I remember to apply the Lancôme lipbalm as I’m waiting for the elevator. It really finishes makes my freshly baby-wiped face and accidental/on-purpose bedhead.
To get ready in the morning I have become an astute listener – judging the ‘right amount’ of kiddie noise over the roar of the shower. Loud crash? Baby or toddler crying? Too quiet? Cupboard banging? I race out of the washroom like a naked Olympian, covered in soap suds.
I can get ready – showered, hair washed and dried, teeth brushed and face washed, dressed – in an Elmo youtube clip. “Elmo’s got four ducks, quack, quack.”
So you wonder why those cosmetics last forever?
Ask Elmo. Quack, Quack.